


The Road to Recovery (The Long Way Around)

by ChubbstheFish



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adult Merlin, Angst, Arthur-centric, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Merlin is magic, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Minor Character Death, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Recovery, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, dark at times, dragon - Freeform, unicorn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-08-10 08:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20132212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChubbstheFish/pseuds/ChubbstheFish
Summary: The Mad King Cenred has fallen. His army of men and magic has fallen apart and in its disassembled wake is only destruction. With the King currently out of commission Prince Arthur is regent, and is left trying to put the kingdom of Camelot back together all the while dealing with rampaging monsters, furious sorcerers, and ancient prophecies. Strangest of all is the boy found unconscious on the battlefield, the child who is not a child at all, and Arthur needs his help just as much as Merlin needs his in order to move forward and prevent Camelot from falling.





	1. Prologue: The Mad King Falls

The battle was going poorly. It wasn’t that his men weren’t giving it their all; Arthur couldn’t ask for more than was physically possible, and his soldiers were giving the best performance of their lives. Unfortunately, it was also likely to be the last performance of their lives. A single sorcerer should have posed little threat to a group of Camelot knights; they were trained to be able to combat magic in all its forms. Any normal army would have fallen to Camelot’s prowess. However, an entire army composed of dull-eyed sorcerers flinging spells, brazen warriors with little regard for their own lives, and no less than a dozen seemingly immortal monstrous beasts interspersed with the enemy foot soldiers were slowly but steadily gaining ground on the battle field. Camelot could not afford to lose this battle, but the more it progressed the more their defeat seemed to be inevitable.

Arthur pulled his blade from the cooling body of an enemy soldier. In the respite between attackers he was able to take a moment to survey the field. All around him was the sound of clashing steel and death. To his left he could just make out Sir Leon, Sir Lancelot, and Sir Elyan dancing around a griffin, dodging a clawed kick here and a heavy wing blow there. Arthur could see Lancelot’s sword make contact in what should have been a mutilating blow to the beast’s leg, but instead of tearing flesh he was met by his sword reflecting off it like it was stone. The knight staggered, and the Griffin whirled around blocking him from Arthur's view. The fear for his men only redoubled when he saw to his right that Sir Gwaine and Sir Percival were being charged down by a trio of wyvern, knocking several soldiers down and just barely missing the two knights as they dove out of the way. All around him were similar scenes of his men facing down great beasts, locked in combat with enemy fighters, or dodging spell-slinging sorcerers. All the while the Mad King Cenred circled above on the back of a golden-blue dragon.

It was funny. The dragon was one of the most beautiful creatures Arthur had ever seen, what with its scales glimmering a deep blue accentuated by gold on the ridges of its jaw, spikes, and wings. The juxtaposition of its beauty was why he felt such horror when the Mad King had driven it downwards and commanded it to scorch the very earth, incinerating everything in its path with its white flame.

The dragon wheeled back again, approaching in another low sweep to burn a path through the clashing armies. With a jolt Arthur realized it would be upon him within seconds. Glancing around he saw a fallen soldier’s crossbow and spilled quiver of bolts. Sparing a last glance at his approaching death an idea came to him. It was probably a bad idea, but he was not prepared to go out without a fight. He pulled the crossbow free from the corpse and loaded a bolt before swinging it up to aim. Not at the incoming dragon, he had already witnessed Camelot’s finest archers rain arrows upon the creature without it so much as tearing a wing or flinching in its flight. No, Arthur aimed at the king perched upon its back. If he could knock the man down or even, dare he hope, kill him, Cenred’s army would be without its king and the dragon without its handler. Hopefully the army would fall into disarray and return the advantage back to his men.

Keeping the crossbow trained on the chest of the Mad King, the younger monarch sent out a desperate prayer for accuracy and a near whispered thought for his people: _I’m so sorry if this sacrifice is in vain. It was never in my intention to leave you without a leader, but as long as the city still stands by the end of the day I will have done all I can._

The prince held his breath. The dragon drew closer, its mouth open, a blinding heat building in the back of its throat. _I wish I could tell my men how proud of them I am. Not a single one of you turned and fled once they saw the army we faced._

The flames descended to the earth, quickly heating the air in front of him. _I’m so sorry father. It looks like I’m going to beat you to death’s door. I can only hope you can recover, if only for the sake of the kingdom._

Arthur fired.

At first it seemed like he missed. The flaming wall drew closer. The battle raged on. Suddenly the dragon pulled up and the flames cut off just short of hitting him. Arthur thought he could see the Mad King flail for a moment. A sharp ringing sound echoed across the battlefield, followed by an explosion of blinding light from above. The blast sent a ripple outward that knocked Arthur to his knees. For a second the combatants seemed frozen in space, stunned and silent. There was a pair of heavy thuds in front of Arthur, and then all pandemonium broke loose.

Blinking afterimages from his eyes, Arthur stared in amazement at the suddenly dragonless sky and the broken figure on the ground in front of him before realizing a change was overtaking the enemy forces. The sorcerers were shaking their heads, as if they were coming out of a daze before taking in their situation. Some eyed the soldiers around them before turning tail and fleeing, some picked back up where they left off, attacking indiscriminately against both Camelot and Eccetirian fighters alike. And a few, with haunted looks in their eyes seemed to turn inwards upon themselves. A man near Arthur picked up a fallen dagger and he watched in horror as the man brought it to his own chest before plunging it in.

Belatedly, Arthur noticed the shrieks of the monstrous beasts as they scattered towards the distant forest. He watched as the griffin from before stopped long enough allow an older sorcerer in a dark robe mount it before continuing its retreat, running past a quartet of still fighting sorcerers.

Cenred’s army was in disarray, and it took only minutes for Camelot’s forces make a rallying call and press the advantage into a victory. Not a clean one by any shot, but a victory nonetheless.

Arthur felt the adrenaline rush that had been with him since he shot the King slowly leave his system after dispatching the last foe near him. He called out, “King Cenred has fallen! Let those who surrender be shown mercy!”

“Sire, even the sorcerers?” Asked a nearby knight.

“Even the sorcerers,” Arthur said with a nod.

The knights nearest to him echoed the command.

All around the field the knights and soldiers of Camelot were finishing the battle. Captured soldiers were being relieved of their weapons. Surrendering sorcerers were placing their hands on their heads, some with fear in their eyes, others with malice. This was Camelot after all, and magic of all kinds was despised.

It was frankly incredible the battle had turned as it did. Arthur was grateful to see as many survivors among his men as he did. He turned to see Sir Leon approaching him, a cut pouring blood over his eye and cradling his left arm but otherwise intact.

“What just happened?” asked his first knight, “I was sure we were going to lose, but then Cenred’s army seemed to lose it after that dragon disappeared.”

“I’m not exactly sure. I managed to hit Cenred with a bolt and it knocked him off the dragon,” Arthur said, gesturing in the general direction of where the king had landed, “That’s when his army fell apart.”

The knight made a thoughtful noise. “Where did he land? Is there any chance he’s still alive?”

“If he did he’s not going anywhere fast,” Arthur said, “Come and see.” He led the knight over to the burnt earth where the body lay. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The limbs lay all askew with a broken bone sticking out of a leg, and the back had a funny kink in it indicating that it was probably broken as well.

Leon scrutinizing the body. “I don’t think he’s getting up after that fall.”

“No, I don’t think so either,” Arthur reached down to grab the body’s shoulder and flip him. Before he could touch the corpse it shuttered. Leon let out a slight gasp he would later deny and stepped back away from the body. Arthur steeled himself and pulled the man onto his back.

“What the-?” Cenred was definitely dead, a stiffness overcoming his body. The broken end of the bolt was sticking out of what was left of a destroyed amulet, the shattered gem hanging from the dead king's neck. But the amulet wasn't what drew Arthur's attention. No, that honour went to the small dark-haired boy curled up under the dead king. Arthur glanced at Leon to see a mirrored expression to his own on the knights face. His attention was drawn back when the child took a shuttering breath and opened his unfocused eyes.

They were the brightest blue Arthur had ever seen.


	2. The Strange Child

Arthur hesitated outside the court physicians’ quarters. His duties as regent had been keeping him occupied, and this late in the evening was one of his first moments to himself all day. On the several occasions he had managed to with Gaius it had been in the improvised infirmary in the great hall or by his father’s bedside where other matters took priority. However, since it was not his men nor his father whose health currently concerned him, he felt it would be best to meet with the physician away from those places of responsibility. After all, he wanted to meet for a more selfish reason.

Arthur could still feel the cold fury of realizing that someone had brought a child, a _boy_ who couldn’t possibly be older than ten summers, to the battlefield. Who could be so irresponsible? Or had the child simply wandered away from behind his mother’s skirts and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time? Either way, seeing such a young form bent, bruised, and slightly crushed had squicked his stomach. The boy hadn’t opened his eyes for longer than a few seconds before they fluttered closed and he passed out back into oblivion.

Together, Arthur and Leon had managed to wrap the boy in Arthur’s cape without further aggravating any of his injuries and he gently carried the boy until he was able to pass him off to a cart driver taking the injured back to the citadel. He gave the driver strict instructions to take the boy to Gaius himself and insure that the physician would be the one to receive him, having no doubt that the old man would take it upon himself to provide the boy his own bed away from the injured soldiers to recover in. He only felt slightly bereft upon handing the boy off, hearing the slight hitch in his breath as he lay him down in the cart. But that was two days ago. In the meantime, he was busy overseeing the captured enemy soldiers and sorcerers, preparing the funerals of his own men and the burning of the fallen enemies’ bodies, and dealing with the loose ends of renegade men from Cenred’s armies running amuck in the nearby forests and terrorizing towns between Camelot and Essetir. Not to mention that the power vacuum left by Cenred’s death would soon strain their shared border even more.

Arthur still wasn’t sure that giving amnesty to the captured sorcerers was the right choice to make. From the ones that were willing to talk they claimed that they had been given no choice but to fight for Cenred. And however much magic users were untrusted in Camelot, it seemed as though they preferred the treatment they got as prisoners than whatever had happened while they were under Cenred’s command. Many haunted looks followed Arthur as he walked past them, and most were completely unwilling to perform even the slightest act of magic. It was truly perplexing.

No, Arthur was indeed a busy man. There was much that needed to be done still, and despite wanting to have checked up on the boy much sooner, Arthur still felt guilty for neglecting his duties by even being here, despite the lateness in the day.

Well. There was no time like the present. Arthur drew himself up before knocking on the door. A voice inside cut off for a moment before starting up again with an even “Come in.” Arthur pushed his way into the room.

As Arthur had expected from the previous sounds of conversation Gaius was not alone. Pulling herself into a quick curtsy was the one person who Arthur would have rather avoided for now. And while he was no longer as smitten by Guinevere as he had been in the early days his heart still ached seeing her face. She would make a fine queen and an even finer life companion. However, with his father indisposed and a war Arthur was unlikely to survive looming on the horizon it would have been the dishonorable thing to ask Gwen for her hand only to immediately widow her and leave the responsibilities of the kingdom upon her shoulders. It had hurt him to see her sweet face marred by the pain of telling her this, but it had allowed for someone who also loved her and would be able to properly cherish her to step in and finally get to court her in the way they wanted to. Arthur had already extracted a promise from Lancelot that he would guarantee Gwen’s safety should anything befall him.

“Hello Gwen, Gaius. I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important.”

“No, not at all sire,” Gwen said without looking him in the eye, “In fact, I should be getting back to helping in the infirmary. Excuse me.” She carefully maneuvered around the prince and out the door with a basket full of vials and bandages. Arthur bit his tongue to stop from calling out after her.

Gaius clears his throat, drawing Arthur’s attention back to the elderly physician. “How may I be of assistance this evening sire? All of the knights currently in my care are in stable conditions, I would have sent a messenger if that had changed. That said, the king is holding stable as well. I was just to be on my way to go and attend him when you came in.”

“Sorry to delay you Gaius, but I was hoping to see that boy Leon and I brought in from the battlefield,” Arthur hoped he wasn’t being too selfish monopolizing the physicians’ time. But with the king still in limbo after Cenred’s assassination attempt it was impossible to not feel as though any moment that Gaius was not at his father’s bedside was sending him further away from a swift recovery.

Gaius blinked in surprise. “Oh yes! I haven’t gotten him to say much yet, but I’ve set all his broken bones. All it will take is a little time now before he will be back on his feet and ready to go home.” The physician gestured for Arthur to follow and lead him further into the workshop towards the tiny room in the back. “I should warn you, he has several older injuries that are a bit startling to see.”

Concerned, Arthur thought back to the moment they had found the boy. He had been partially covered by the dead king, and once fully revealed, he was shown to be wearing peasants’ garb and covered in grime from the burnt land. Arthur had been mostly concerned by his obviously broken arm. But if he had previous injuries before having a body fall on him it made Arthur’s thoughts wander to a darker place. Just _how_ had the child ended up on the battlefield?

At the top of the staircase Gaius knocked lightly before pushing open the door. He called out softly, “you have a visitor,” before stepping aside and allowing for Arthur to enter before him. Upon entrance, Arthur’s focus was immediately drawn to the guilty-looking eyes of the boy standing next to the bed, bandages half removed from his arm with a splint discarded at his feet.

“What are you doing?” Exclaimed the physician as he brushed past Arthur and made a grab for the bandages in the boy’s hand, “I told you that needed to stay on if you wanted to heal faster!”

The boy shirked away, “No look! See? It’s fine,” he said and wiggled his fingers and twisted his arm around for emphasis, “It’s already healed. My ribs too.” He waved his arm at the bandages covering his chest. Arthur’s eyes flickered to the bruises on his wrists and around his neck. Yellow and green, they had faded somewhat since being inflicted, but to Arthur’s trained eyes they looked suspiciously like handprints.

“How is this possible?” asked Gaius as he gently ran a hand over the previously broken bones.

“I heal fast. It’s a special talent of mine.” The boy shifted as though to pull away, fidgeting with the rough fabric of his breeches.

Arthur cleared his throat, drawing the boy’s attention back to him. “What’s your name, child?”

“Um, I’m Merlin, but I’m not a child,” the boy, Merlin, said with a quirk of his lips into an almost nervous smile and he held out his hand like he expected Arthur to shake it.

“Right,” Arthur moved forward and crouched down to be eye level with the boy, “Tell me, Merlin-not-a-child, how wise is it to speak about having magic in front of the Prince of a kingdom where magic is forbidden?”

Merlin jerked his hand back as though burned and widened his eyes. “Magic? Who said anything about me having magic?”

“Smart lad,” Arthur nodded to himself, “Keep that to yourself in the future if you know what’s good for you.” Arthur was starting to get a clearer picture in his head, and it was not a particularity good one. Their was only reason he could conceive for a magical child to be on a battlefield. He must have been seen as a particularly valuable asset by the Mad King.

Merlin narrowed his eyes at the word lad before pushing himself up on tiptoes. Looking slightly down at Arthur he gasped, “Oh, It’s You! You’re the one who broke Cenred’s spell!”

Arthur blinked. “What did I just say about keeping talk about magic to yoursel–“ 

“You freed all those sorcerers!” Merlin interrupted.

“What do you mean? I killed Cenred,” Arthur said.

“No no, the fall killed him,” Merlin corrected, “You broke the amulet! It was how he was controlling the sorcerers. Most of them didn’t want to fight for Cenred.”

“What do you mean control them?” Gaius asked, and Merlin shifted his gaze to the older man.

“You know. Controlled everything they did. Like a puppet master. Well not individually. He controlled his generals and they controlled the foot sorcerers and all those poor creatures. I think your mind would break if you tried to control so many people all at once. Not that his mind wasn’t already broken, he’s been forcing his will upon others for too long for it to still be in intact.”

“How can you know all this?” Gaius voiced the same question Arthur had.

“Well it’s not like your mind goes to sleep. You’re aware of everything, every little detail, every action, stuck in a never-ending nightmare.” A far away look flits onto Merlin’s young face. Arthur can't help but think that it does not belong there. “Your body becomes your prison and you can’t escape. I talked to myself constantly to try and drown out everything I saw and did...” He trailed off, wringing his hands and no longer making eye contact.

Arthur’s mind reeled. All those captured sorcerers; men and women who had lost their free will. The ones who had turned on those around them, perhaps their minds were broken too, and they had lashed out the first moment of their freedom. Arthur remembered the man who took his own life. What sort of atrocities could the Mad King have made him do? It was unbearable to think about. The full the meaning behind Merlin’s words struck Arthur and a cold dread filled his chest. “Cenred controlled you.”

It wasn’t a question, but still Merlin nodded wordlessly. Arthur and Gaius shared an uneasy look.

The physician broke the silence. “What in the name of the gods could he have wanted from a child?”

That brought Merlin’s head back up and he looked between the two men. “Still not a child," he said with a petulant pout before withering slightly under Arthur's glare. "I – I have a unique talent-"

“How so?” Merlin’s attention flicked back to Arthur. He looked him up and down in a way that made Arthur feel as though he was entirely too exposed before he stood up as tall as he could. No, that wasn’t quite right, because he kept getting taller, his chest broadening, the bandages and his breeches falling off into a puddle around his feet replaced by a familiar outfit as his hair went from black to gold. A moment later Arthur was staring at a perfect reflection of himself, in the exact same outfit from the red shirt to his mother’s ring on his forefinger. The only difference was the look of shock on his face compared to the other’s look of fear.

His impostor opened his mouth and out came Arthur’s voice, “I’m not sure if I’m really human or not. I sometimes think that my body is, well, just pure magic. It's like a fluid that I can shape how I want it to be, not solid like everyone else's seems to be,” The other Arthur looks at his feet before shrinking in on himself. No, just shrinking in general. Shifting back into the small boy who had been standing there previously. “And I was telling the truth. I’m not a child.” His voice went from Arthur’s deeper pitch back to the higher tones of a youth. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to look like anymore. I haven’t been able to be myself in over ten years.”

Arthur looked to the physician. He could see the exact moment the implications behind what Merlin had said registered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably warn you that this story is un beta'd. And my first fic in this fandom. Also my first fic in general. It's a bit of a test run to see if I can handle writing a longer, heavy story before continuing on a personal project, and I consider it failing if I don't see it all the way to the end. I know where I want to end this story, but I'm not sure when it will get there, or what bends it's going to go on in the meantime. Oh well. C'est la vie.


	3. The Broken Spell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have fallen asleep while editing this chapter last night. Please let me know if you spot any typos or anything that doesn't make sense.

Arthur sat back in his seat and gently rubbed the bridge of his nose. The council meeting had been going on since early that morning and it was now well past noon. A glance to his right showed him that Leon was just as exhausted as he felt, the First Knight’s gaze was unfocused as one of his father’s advisers droned on about the benefits of executing the captured sorcerers. To his left Morgana was leaning over to whisper something to Gwen, all the while glowering at the adviser. Despite her position as the King’s ward Arthur had insisted that she be there for all the important meetings, and so far she had yet to disappoint with her occasional insight or reprimands for nobles who stepped out of line. It was only a matter of time before she snapped at the long winded adviser, and it was better that he interfere before it got to that point.

“Enough!” Arthur sat up and cut off the adviser mid rant. He should have known that there would be repercussions for his decision on the battlefield, but he couldn’t bear to see the surrendering men and women killed, and especially not now that he knew the truth. “There will be no unnecessary executions. What I am more concerned about is the sorcery that was used to control them. Magic that can force one mans will upon so many others? That is a true threat. We need to find out how Cenred accomplished this and ensure that it will not happen again. I will not stand for the loss of the free will of the people in this Kingdom.”

There was some nodding among the younger members of the council as well as some grumbling from Uther’s most loyal advisers. Arthur could sense more than see Morgana’s look of pride. He turned to Leon who was much more awake now. Arthur shared a significant look with him before saying “Sir Leon will bring up some of the more agreeable sorcerers and we can ask them directly about this problem. This council will resume when they return.”

Catching Leon’s arm as he stood to leave Arthur leaned over and quietly said “Take as many knights as you feel you’ll need, there’s no need to throw all caution to the wind.”

“Understood sire,” Leon said, and then louder, “Oy, you two! With me!” the two in question, Sirs Lancelot and Elyan, stopped and turned away from slinking in a direction that looked suspiciously like where Gwen was currently standing. Arthur watched the trio walk purposefully out the chamber door before turning back to Morgana.

Arthur took a good look at the woman in question and noticed something he hadn’t before. For the first time in weeks Morgana looked like she got a full night of sleep. Although she always put up a strong façade, upon Arthur’s pressing Morgana had confessed to being plagued by nightmares leading up to the assassination attempt on the King and continuing in the weeks since. Gaius’s sleeping tinctures had long since stopped helping.

Quietly, to avoid eavesdropping from the milling about council members, Arthur addressed the King’s ward, and by extension, her maidservant. “You’re looking well today Morgana.”

She raised a single brow in an eerie imitation of a certain court physician, “Are you implying that I looked poorly yesterday? Or are just trying for pleasantries? Because either way you are missing the mark Arthur dear.”

Arthur sighed, “Must you always be this waspish? I was simply wondering if your dreams were leaving you alone.”

Morgana reassessed him before glancing at Gwen and reaching for her hand as though to seek comfort. “Not exactly,” She said leaning in, “My dreams were still strange. Just more peaceful than they have been of late. But still, somewhat… unnerving.”

“Perhaps now with the threat of direct war out of the way things can go back to some semblance of normal.” He glanced at Gwen. _Or some new version of normal. The one where I already gave her up._ There was no use in pining now. He had already caught Gwen sharing a tender moment with a certain knight which he had quickly fled from. He was not going to be the one to ruin Gwen’s future twice.

“Perhaps,” Morgana conceded. “I can’t help but feel you are handling the aftermath of this war better than Uther could. Just think, an enslaved sorcerer army surrendering. The King would rather them all be dead, no matter if they wanted to fight or not.”

Arthur knew her words were true. He had a terrible feeling that if his father had been well enough to rule, he would be seeking a way to control the sorcerers into destroying themselves. Where magic was concerned the King had no mercy.

“I’m more worried that someone would try to turn that power on the people of Camelot.” Gwen’s words were quiet, as if she was worried that she would be scorned for speaking out of turn. “There are so many reasons as to why this is wrong, it’s a little hard to wrap your mind about.” she said, shaking her head sadly.

Arthur did not allow his eyes to linger on the maidservant “Yes. We can only hope to get some answers soon.” Arthur settled back in his chair. There was a crowd of council members hovering just out of earshot, waiting to descend on him at a moment notice. It was going to be a long wait.

-o0o-

Not long after had resigned himself to death by inane questions, the three knights returned with two captured sorcerers. One was a tall bearded man and the other a woman with hair that was just this side of grey. The pair was escorted before the council, arms bound loosely in rope, definitely more for show than anything else. Elyan and Lancelot stood at the ready while Leon and any councilor still left milling about returned to their seats.

Leon cleared his throat before simply stating, “These sorcerers have agreed to be questioned before this council.”

“Then let us begin.” Arthur turned to the pair of sorcerers standing with their heads held tall before the council. “Would you please tell the court who you are?”

The woman spoke first. “Your majesty, I am Melle, this is Levan. We are druids, forced into the Mad King’s army several years ago. It is our understanding you have questions about the magic that bound us. We might be able to provide you with some answers.”

“You do affirm that Cenred controlled you?” Arthur watched some of his fathers’ advisers settle in their seats, stony faced, and a least two of them scoffed. He could practically hear the King booming out ‘_Cenred had no need to control them, they would happily see you destroyed! Magic has poisoned their very souls, corrupted them in to dangerous monsters!_’ It seemed like some of his father’s most loyal advisers were thinking along the same vein.

“Not directly,” Melle said, “He controlled his generals, who controlled us. There were five generals. One who commanded the magical creatures, the rest commanded the magic users.”

“How was he able to do this? Cenred was no sorcerer.”

Levan shuffled forward slightly. “My understanding is that he had help. The Mad King supposedly approached a High Priestess of the Old Religion, a woman called Nimueh, and asked for help to control a great magical beast. She was the one who found a way to bind magic and force it to obey, and she gave the Mad King an amulet that the spell was bound to. But it was only designed control the beast.”

“She taught her method to her apprentice, Morgause, and Morgause was the one to figured out how to bend another sorcerer’s will to her own.” Melle continued, answering Arthur’s unspoken question. “Somehow Cenred convinced Morgause to alter the amulet so he could control other people with it. He then killed Nimueh and bound Morgause, and from there he was able to bind others. She became his first general.”

Arthur considered the two druids before speaking, “Cenred’s amulet was destroyed.”

“Yes, we assumed as much,” Melle said with Levan nodding in agreement, “The amulet being destroyed broke the spell on his generals, who then released us.”

Arthur remembered the moment all the sorcerers seemed to be waking up from a daze. Just a few heartbeats before utter chaos erupted. “The generals released you willingly?”

Levan sighed, “The Generals are all powerful sorcerers, and were likely just as unwillingly bound as we were. I’m simply assuming that with their freedom they chose to return ours.”

A rippling murmur went through the onlookers. The King’s voice in Arthur's head shouted ‘_Preposterous! Sorcerers have no empathy!_’ Arthur firmly told it to shut up.

A younger adviser spoke up, a look of concern on his face. “Could one of these so-called Generals reclaim their control?”

Melle glanced at the adviser and then back at the Prince uncertainly. “By all means, answer the question,” Arthur said with a small gesture of assent.

“Possibly,” Melle said, “but only on those originally under their control. The binding process is … specific.”

“But others could be added?” now that the gates were open it finally looked like the other advisers were at least willing to question the sorcerers in their midst.

“Perhaps.” Levan eyed the balding councilor. “But the individual must already have magic. That is how they get bound. Their own power gets turned in on them and becomes the shackles that bind them.”

Arthur felt a quiet relief that most of his citizens would be spared from the fear of being victims to such an evil, and an immediate guilt for those who would not be. He was no fool. Sorcery may be illegal in Camelot but that does not mean it was absent. “Did this Nimueh teach any others how to craft this spell?”

Levan and Melle shared a look before Melle answered. “As far as we are aware, only Morgause. And she’s been under that spell for many years.”

“She is not among the captured sorcerers, is she?” Arthur addressed this question towards Leon, but Melle answered anyways.

“No Sire. None of the Generals were captured.”

Sir Caradoc, one of the older knights more loyal to Uther than Arthur, stood up suddenly. “Then our next course of action is clear! Morgause must be tracked down and killed before she teaches another how to bind an army of sorcerers!”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself Sir Caradoc,” Morgana said icily, “Wouldn’t it would be better to track down _all_ of these Generals, that way we can find our if any of them were to start building their own army?”

Caradoc started to splutter at being shot down. Arthur quickly jumped in, “The Lady Morgana is right. Our first priority is to ensure no army like this one can ever be formed again. We cannot risk killing a general without finding out if they have passed their knowledge on.” He looked around the room, gauging how many advisers agreed with him as well as how many feathers he had ruffled. His father’s voice was suspiciously silent.

The council doors opened with an audible draft of non-stuffy council air, and heads twisted around to see it who was interrupting them, but no one entered. Or rather, no one visibly entered. In the near silence that had befallen the council, light footsteps could be easily made out. Moments later a familiar head full of dark hair, blue eyes, and ears that were much too large for their face could be seen making its way to where Arthur sat. Completely ignoring protocol, the boy-shaped being stopped next to Arthur and placed his hand on the chair next to him as he leaned up. Arthur noticed that someone had given him an old blue-grey cloth to wrap around his neck and hide the worse of his bruises.

Merlin ignored the advisers, the knights, the nobles, and only spared a second to glance at the two druids before speaking clearly to Arthur.

“I have a message for you from Gaius. He needs you to come to the infirmary right away."


	4. The Healer's Touch

There were certain unpleasant things Arthur was accustomed to seeing after so many years of being a knight. Death in combat was usually grisly, what with dismemberment being more common than he’d like to admit. But the sight Merlin had led him to in the makeshift infirmary was one he might never be able to unsee.

Gaius lifted up another set of bandages revealing the soldier’s green-tinged wound. It oozed pus unnaturally and the soldier’s veins stood out darkly against his pallid skin. The injured man shifted slightly in his sweat-drenched cot and his eyelids fluttered before he seemed to pass back out again.

“They’re all like this?” Arthur asked the Physician. Gaius sighed and nodded as he replaced the old bandages with new ones.

“Every single one of your men injured with even the smallest steel inflicted wounds are showing signs of this sickness.” Gaius looked around quickly before leaning closer. “Sire, I believe this to be magical in origin. I have read an account of a disease similar to this one, but as of now I do not know the cure.”

Arthur watched Merlin gently dab a wet cloth on the unconscious soldier’s forehead. Perhaps for such a powerful being more precautions should have been taken instead of letting him roam the castle freely, but when the child-shaped being had pleaded to be allowed to useful it was hard to resist his tiny petulant pout. Gaius had agreed to keep an eye on him while he acted as an assistant. Besides, it felt wrong to lock up a child. As far as he was aware Merlin had been behaving himself, but that did not mean much if he could change his form at will and cause mischief while wearing someone else's face.

“Could one of the prisoners have done this?” Arthur asked while keeping an eye on Merlin’s body language. The boy-shaped being gave no indication of hearing Arthur’s question.

“I highly doubt it. If I am correct in what I think this sickness is the spell would have had to been applied to the weapon directly, and by an incredibly powerful sorcerer.”

Arthur looked back to the physician. “Would a High Priestess of the Old Religion be able to perform this spell?”

Gaius glanced up sharply. “A High Priestess would be more than capable of doing this. Do you suspect there was one involved?” Arthur noted that Merlin froze, seemingly to be holding his breath.

Meeting the physician’s gaze Arthur said “It’s possible. The council just questioned some of the captured sorcerers. They informed us that one of the sorceresses working under Cenred was an apprentice under a High Priestess.”

Merlin jerked suddenly, clenching the wet cloth in his small hands. “That woman was ruthless, even without the Mad King’s influence.” He shuttered and shrunk in on himself.

Arthur felt a overwhelming need to reassure the child-shaped being. He kneeled down to Merlin's eye level, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about any of Cenred’s men anymore. We’re already planning on going after his generals to ensure none of them can do what they did to you to anyone else ever again.”

Merlin shook the hand off his shoulder in a huff. “I’m _not_ a child. You don’t have to treat me like one. I’ve seen and been forced to commit atrocities you could barely imagine, and I know exactly what you will be facing if you go up against the generals in _His_ army.” Merlin’s voice was rising the entire time with a distinct vehemence on the word His, as though Merlin was unwilling to say Cenred’s name. With a jolt, Arthur realized that might be exactly the case. Merlin continued, “I don’t want to have anything to do with them again. I don’t want to have to fight anymore, or be used as a weapon,” His voice caught, and then, “I just want to be free from the hell He put me through. And I especially don't want to be constantly reminded of it.”

With that said Merlin wheeled around, abandoned his cloth, and marched towards the exit past the rows of makeshift cots and injured soldiers. Before he reached the door it flew open as two figures stumbled in, the larger one supporting the other. Arthur was alarmed to see that of the two knights who had just entered, Sir Percival was almost entirely supporting Sir Gwaine, the latter with his feet dragging on the floor. Merlin quickly jumped out of the way as Percival made his way further into the room.

“What happened to him?” Gaius said in alarm, quickly moving to help.

“This idiot decided to forgo getting his wound treated after the battle and now he’s paying for it.” Percival said as he shouldered his human load.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” slurred Gwaine as Percival and Gaius maneuvered him down on an empty cot.

“And now it’s infected,” Percival chided, “Here, take a look at this,” he said pulling up the leg of Gwaine’s trousers. He hissed as the telltale signs of darkened veins and greenish flesh came into view.

“Someone got you with their sword, didn’t they?” Arthur asked softly.

“”m not sure,” mumbled Gwaine, “Lots of things happened. ‘s possible.” Gwaine turned and gave Arthur a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, Princess. I’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

Percival sighed and lowered his larger frame down next to Gwaine. “This fool will be the death of me, I swear.”

Arthur gently led Gaius out of earshot of the two knights before speaking. “What can you do for my men?”

“I do not know how to cure this,” Gaius said, and then with apologetic look, “The book which I first read of this disease was destroyed during the purge.”

Arthur silently cursed his father’s thoroughness in the erasure of all magical knowledge. It seemed his father's actions were coming back to bite them lately. He had a sudden thought. “There are some druids among the captured sorcerers. Is it possible that any of them could have knowledge of how to cure them?”

Gaius’ eyebrow shot up. “It is possible, but we are running out of time.”

“I’ll send a messenger to have one brought up.”

Gaius looked at him strangely.

“What? I’m not above using all the tools at our disposal. If it takes a magical solution to stop a magical problem, then that is what we will do.” Arthur couldn’t quite place the expression on Gaius’ face. “Do you think me a fool?”

Gaius shook his head before reaching out to grip Arthur’s hand. “I think your father would not approve, but your mother would be proud of you to see you being the better man.”

Arthur felt the breath catch in the back of his throat before nodding and turning away. It was only then that he saw the infirmary door swinging closed.

-o0o-

Arthur spent the evening in the King’s chambers, sitting at his father’s bedside listening to him struggle to breath. Gwen had come by earlier to deliver a disheartening message. While some of the druids in the dungeons had been willing to help, they did not have the means to do so here in Camelot. Just like with his father, it seemed like it would only be a matter of time. The frustration of being unable to help burned through him as he cradled his father’s unresponsive hands in his own. Gaius said he would keep looking for a cure, both for his father and his men, but Arthur was losing hope.

He wondered if his father would hate him for the choices he made. The King had always made his position on magic very clear. The crime of sorcery was to be punished with death, no matter who the accused was. It made no sense to Arthur that the King would condemn all magic and its users whenever a magical problem came their way, especially when a magical cure was the only answer. And then there were people like the druids. By all accounts Arthur was aware of they were a nonviolent people. Even the ones currently being held in Camelot’s dungeons were willing to use their magic to help, though Arthur was unsure if it was just in thanks for being freed or in the hope that he would let them return back to their people unharmed. It seemed much easier to work with them than to go on some of the ridiculous quests he had been forced into in the past by finicky magical beings.

And then there was Merlin. A being that seemed to be more magic than man, fluid from one form to the next, even if Arthur had only witnessed his changes a handful of times. He had a horrible feeling that he had seen him on the battlefield and knew exactly what atrocities Cenred had forced him to commit. The blue of his eyes matched up perfectly with the colour of the scales on the great beast that had rained destruction upon his men.

It did not help that being in the shape of a child made Arthur’s protective instincts go haywire. His thin body and overly large ears hid a surprisingly strong personality. It was a wonder that he acted as stable as he did. There were many among the captured sorcerers who were lost, either in their minds or to illusions that caused them to mumble incoherently at shadows. Gaius had told him of how the boy-shaped being went around giving comfort to his infirmary-bound men and to the weary servants who came across his path. He had already endeared himself to many of them. Maybe bringing comfort to others was the way he brought comfort to himself.

Arthur looked to his father’s lined face, scrunched in mild discomfort despite his continued slumber.

“You would have him killed the moment you captured him,” Arthur whispered hoarsely. “You would have had our men slaughter Cenred's army the moment they surrendered. You wouldn’t care even if they were able to help our people.” Arthur gently rubbed his thumb over his father’s knuckles before placing the hand down. “I don’t think I will ever be like you in that way. But I hope you would understand my choices.” Arthur stood up and slowly made his way out of the chamber.

The King did not wake.

-o0o-

Arthur sat up in the dead of the night. His sleep had been fitful these past few days, but he was unsure what had finally woken him tonight. His warrior training kicked in and had him out of the bed and taking up his sword from where it had been leaning against his nightstand, glaring suspiciously at shadows. Nothing moved. Arthur felt himself relaxing slightly. A moment later he registered a light tapping coming from the door. Silently, he padded over to the entrance and threw open the door, brandishing his weapon at a figure illuminate by swaying candlelight.

“Morgana!” Arthur gasped in recognition, “I could have skewered you!”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” She said steadily, hand cupping the flame to prevent it from blowing out, “I was expecting it.”

“What are you doing here this late?” Arthur made a gesture inviting her in, but she shook her head.

“I need you to come with me, to check something out. I… I have a, well not exactly bad a bad feeling, but a feeling nonetheless. This is important. To me.” She added after a pause.

Arthur did once over of Morgana. She was in her nightgown and slippers and had an uncertain look in her eyes as she watched the expression on his face. Arthur schooled his thoughts. “Alright,” he relented. “Give me a moment to get a shirt and boots on.” Morgana smiled in relief.

Making his way back into his room he quickly got dressed in slightly more appropriate nighttime excursion attire. Arthur grabbed his scabbard for his sword when Morgana stopped him. “Could you possibly leave your sword behind? You shouldn’t need it.”

Arthur paused before leaving the scabbard and belt on his table. “Happy?”

“Yes,” Morgana nodded before whirling around and taking off.

Arthur followed Morgana down the corridor to one of the hidden servant passageways. This late at night there was almost no one wandering around the castle and their footsteps echoed eerily through the empty halls. Together, they navigated in the near darkness left by Morgana’s candle down to the ground floor, avoiding the all guards on duty. As they kept going it became apparent that Morgana was leading him towards the Great Hall-turned-infirmary. As they approached the servant entrance Arthur noticed a cool-silvery light emanating from around the tapestry hiding the doorway, so unlike the normal warm candles that would have been lighting the way during daylight hours. Morgana reached out her arm and stopped his forward progress.

“Whatever we see in there, just – just remain calm. No rash decisions please?”

It was the slight pleading tone and the return of the uncertain look that made Arthur hesitate. It seemed so out of character for the normally unapologetic woman that it truly gave him pause. “No rash decisions. I promise.”

Morgana nodded, then the two figures moved forward to push the tapestry just far enough out of the way to see into the room. The sight that met them utterly baffled Arthur.

Inside the infirmary, leaning over one of the cots was a white horse. No. Not quite a horse. It’s legs and body were too thin, and it was nowhere as tall as any of the stallions in Camelot’s stables. It was only when it moved its head and the silver light shifted with it that Arthur saw its horn. Morgana had her hand on her mouth, but Arthur could still hear her breathe, “A unicorn!”

The unicorn turned and for a moment Arthur thought they were discovered but it just gently plodded to the next cot over. In the light of its horn Arthur could make out Gwaine’s features, the sleeping knight covered in sweat that reflected the moon-like glow. The unicorn regarded the man briefly before lowering its horn to the cursed wound on his calf. Both the horn and the man glowed brightly, then the unicorn moved on. Gwaine let out an audible sigh and seemed to settle into a deeper sleep.

Incredulously, Arthur watched as the small creature moved from cot to cot, touching its horn to wounded knights and soldiers, each touch accompanied by a brief burst of light. After it had reached the last cot the unicorn lifted its head high, ears flickering. A moment later it started trotting purposefully out the main door.

As soon as it was gone Morgana pushed the tapestry completely out of the room and stalked into the infirmary, Arthur following more hesitantly.

“You saw that too?” Arthur wheeled around, staring at the sleeping men, their regular, unlabored breathing filling the room, “I’m not just going mad from all the stress?”

“I saw it too.” Morgana said, examining one of the soldier’s wounds. More quietly she said, “I’ve seen it twice now.”

Arthur decided to ignore that comment for now and moved towards Gwaine’s cot. Gently, so as not to disturb the sleeping knight, he pulled Gwaine's bandages aside. On his calf there was still a small wound, but in Morgana’s candlelight he could see that it was no longer green tinged, no more darkened veins sticking out against pale fevered skin.

“They’re cured?” Morgana asked, looking from the healing wound to him.

“Go get Gaius. Quick! Let him know what we just saw happen,” Arthur said before rushing towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to see if I can find that unicorn, or at least how it got in here.”

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” She called out after him.

“When do I ever?” He responded back.

Arthur took off out the main entrance and quickly looked around. There was no way to be certain which direction the unicorn had gone, but he could almost feel that it was still in the castle. Choosing to go left he made it to the main stairwell in time to see a flick of a silver-white tail disappear up the stairway. Quietly, he crept after it, alarmed to see a pair of patrolling guards passed out on the floor. He followed it up through more stairs and corridors, past more unconscious guards until the unicorn stood outside the King’s chambers. Arthur crouched out of sight half a corridor behind the creature. It appeared to be at complete ease.

With a twitch of its ear the door fell open, and the unicorn wandered in. Arthur surged forward, uncaring of how noisy he was and reached the doorway in time to see the unicorn press its horn to the sleeping king’s heart. Unlike before there was no gentle increase in brightness. Instead there was an explosion of multicolored lights from the unicorn’s horn which left afterimages dancing in Arthur’s eyes.

The King let out a groan and the unicorn shuttered away, hooves skidding as if it was pushed by a great invisible force into the wall next to Arthur. Barely a moment passed before the unicorn collapsed into itself, mane shortening into dark hair, hooves turning into hands and feet, pale fur turning into just barely less pale skin, and lastly ears turning into a more rounded shape as the horn was absorbed back into the forehead of a small boy. A small _familiar _boy.

Blue eyes met each other as the boy shakily stood up.

“I'm so sorry I got carried away,” croaked Merlin before his eyes rolled back and he passed out, Arthur just barely catching him in time.


	5. The Return of a King

“This is, very simply put, miraculous,” Gaius said after examining the King. The King who had been in a fitful sleep for well over a fortnight. The King who was currently sitting up on his bed regarding the elderly physician with what could only be considered a resigned look. “Congratulations sire, you beat the odds and managed to overcome near certain death.”

The King grumbled, “Miraculous indeed. It is a miracle I have survived your examination. Are you quite done poking and prodding me?”

Gaius backed off smoothly. “Do you recall what put you in this state, sire? An assassin made an attempt on your life. He missed your heart, but you have been unconscious since.”

Uther’s gaze slipped over to Arthur, and he watched as the king’s face softened, just slightly. “I’m assuming that the assassin was sent by our enemies. Cenred perhaps?” Arthur nodded in assent. “How much time has passed since then?”

Gaius coughed lightly, “Today marks the twenty first day since the attack.”

Uther shot up quickly, clenching his chest in pain but still managed to choke out “Twenty-one days? Cenred must think Camelot is weak! Arthur, we must prepare for battle! Surely war must be on our doorstep!”

Arthur and Gaius rushed to push the unruly king back down while Arthur tried to explain, “Father there is no need to hurt yourself further. The war has already passed. We won. The Mad King is dead, his troops captured and dismantled. Essetir’s forces are in disarray.”

“Truly?” Asked the King, glancing from son to physician.

“Truly,” said Gaius, “Arthur led Camelot’s’ forces to victory against Cenred’s army of soldiers and sorcerers. The worst of our war is over. All that is left is skirmishes with what remains of Cenred’s army.”

Then a look passed over Uther’s face. One Arthur had only seen a handful of times: on his first successful hunt as a child, when he had won his first tournament, the day of he was declared to be Uther’s heir. Pride. Uther reached out and Arthur met him, clasping the King’s hand in his own.

He couldn’t lie to his father straight up. Not about something as important as the nature of the prisoners of war currently being held in Camelot’s dungeons. But he dreaded what the King might order him to do. With that dread settling somewhere behind his navel Arthur volunteered, “Cenred used magic to force his men to fight. Many of them were forced to attack against their will.”

Uther sighed and closed his eyes. “Such is the horror of magic misused. Too many people have the power to cause so much harm.” Uther reopened his eyes to look into Arthur’s, “A monster like Cenred would seek to use that power for his own gain. That is the true danger of magic Arthur. Monsters who use their power to hurt others.” The final statement was said in such a resigned tone that Arthur was taken back.

He had been unsure how the King would react, but this was not the reaction he expected. His father had always ardently condemned magic users by their very nature, stating that their magic is what corrupted them. To hear him give an actual reason made the King seem less like a crusader keen on destroying magic and more reasonably upset over its use in his kingdom. Arthur glanced at Gaius. The elderly physician seemed taken aback as well.

The King drew his attention back by squeezing Arthur’s hand. “You’ve handled the responsibility of being regent well Arthur. I am proud of you.”

Arthur took in his Father’s slight smile. “Th-thank you father,” he said, trying to reign in all the emotion attempting to break through his voice.

“Sire, I believe it is time for you to get some more rest after all this excitement.” Gaius said, shattering the moment. “I will send for your manservant to assist you should you need anything, and I will personally check up on you in a few hours.”

The King assented, and Arthur found himself stepping out of his father’s chambers with the physician a few moments later.

“It looks like he will make a full recovery. Physically, at least.” Gaius said as they made their way down the corridor. It was just before dawn, and there was still a stillness about the castle that existed before the morning truly started.

“I expected him to rage the moment I mentioned magic was involved in the war,” Arthur said carefully.

“Yes. That was quite the unexpected reaction,” Gaius responded evenly before changing subjects, “Where is Merlin?” he asked.

“I hid him in my chambers,” Arthur dropped his voice, “I didn’t know that else I could possibly do with him.”

Gaius nodded. “It was best to get him out of the King’s chambers.” He looked around the corridor quickly before pulling Arthur into a slightly more secluded alcove. “You’re sure he did this?”

Arthur didn’t need to ask for clarification on what. “I’m sure. I saw it with my own eyes. He was the unicorn. He healed the men in the infirmary then he came here.”

Gaius considered him for a moment, “Unicorns are creatures of purity. It would be simple for one to lift a curse from the wounds of our soldiers, in fact it was one of the methods the druids mentioned for saving your men, but we discarded it since it is nearly impossible to find a unicorn. But what he did for your father seems to go far beyond that.”

Arthur gently rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wondered if a unicorn could purify the hatred in one’s heart. “How will this affect my father?”

Gaius sighed. “I have no idea. We will just have to wait and see.

Arthur didn’t like being unprepared for the future. But it looked like he would have no choice but to go into this blind.

Gaius gently placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You should get some rest too. You have been up half the night, and it would be best to keep an eye on our wayward shape-changer, lest he decide to wander off and cause some actual trouble.”

Arthur relented. “Alright. Keep me updated as to the recovery of my men.”

“Of course, sire,” Gaius said. They exited the alcove and went their separate ways.

-o0o-

Arthur was relieved to enter his room to find that the small boy-shaped being was exactly where he left him. Sprawled out, one arm on his chest, and head askew. Arthur had tried to remove his boots, but it turned out they were as much a part of the boy as his hair, a part of his form that he had taken. Arthur wondered if Merlin had any clothes besides the lent neckerchief Morgana had found on the infirmary floor. Perhaps he preferred to make his own clothes when he changed forms. _Or perhaps_, whispered a darker part of his mind,_ Cenred never gave him any. After all, a dragon can’t wear breeches without ripping them._

Seeing the boy-shaped being sleeping peacefully made Arthur hesitant to disturb him. Carefully, he covered Merlin with a blanket before settling down in his favourite chair. He could shut his eyes just for a moment. It would be unlikely for Merlin to wake in the next few moments. He had time.

Arthur jerked awake when he heard shuffling and a muffled yelp. “Merlin?” The shuffling stopped.

“What am I doing here?” Merlin’s eyes were wide and confused. The picture of perfect innocence. Arthur wasn’t having any of it. He stood up and moved to the end of the bed.

“I brought you here, into _my_ chambers after I found you doing something horribly illegal in my _father’s_ chambers. You know, the King? The man who cuts off sorcerers heads for merely existing?”

Merlin’s face scrunched up in anger. “I’m not gonna apologize for helping save your men –”

“I’m not asking you to _Mer_lin!” Arthur interrupted, “I’m actually rather grateful you did, but I’m asking you to use some common sense. Magic is illegal in Camelot, Merlin, and if anyone other than Gaius or had caught you, you would be as good as dead! You’re lucky enough it was Morgana and I who found you” And now that he thought about it, it was strange that Morgana seemed to know in advance that they were to find something out of place in the infirmary. But there was no time to pursue that line of thought right now.

“You saw me in the infirmary?” Merlin had the decency to look timid after Arthur’s outburst.

Arthur gave him a solitary nod. Merlin looked down at where his hands were bunching up the blanket.

“What did you do to my father?” Arthur asked softly.

“I’m not sure.” Merlin didn’t look up. “When I was a unicorn, I could sense something… wrong coming from him. A darkness of sorts. I felt compelled to fix it.”

Arthur sighed. “I’m not sure what you did either.” Arthur leaned forward and gently tipped Merlin’s head so that they were making eye contact again. “But please. Before you try to pull a stunt like that again, let Gaius or myself know. It’s hard enough trying to explain the presence of such a young boy in court, let alone one who occasionally turns into unicorns and goes on nightly wanders around the castle.”

Merlin considered him. “Would it help if I wasn’t a child?”

“How so?” Arthur asked, worried about the tone Merlin had spoken with.

“Like this,” and with those words Merlin started to shift. It was much slower than any shift Arthur had seen before, thin limbs changing to lanky before lean muscles started to fill out his arms and chest. The childlike roundedness in his cheeks shifted to a longer face with sharper cheekbones. Throughout the entire abbreviated aging process Merlin maintained eye contact, and within a handful of moments a rather fetching young man within a year or two of Arthur’s own age sat on his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a little shorter than usual, my computer crashed and I had to rewrite the first half.


	6. In the Cover of the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a bit longer than usual, but then again it is the longest chapter yet. Let me know what you think or if you catch any typos, I edited it at 2 in the morning.

The news of Uther’s sudden recovery spread fast, even without Arthur’s influence and despite the fact that he had yet to make a reappearance at court. However, it seemed to appease some of the older knights and advisors as well as bring some comfort to the common folk. But it has put Arthur in a rough spot, what with a dungeon full of sorcerers he’d rather not execute, an incredibly magic shape-changing man running around court, and a dwindling time frame to do anything about it.

Surprisingly, the Merlin problem ended up being easier to deal with than Arthur would have thought. The solution came from Gwaine of all people. When Arthur had dragged the adult-shaped Merlin before Gaius in the infirmary, the recently healed knight took one look at him and said “Oy! Weren’t you a child yesterday?”

Merlin’s response was “Absolutely not! I only looked like a child!”

“Some type of curse then? Glad it’s gone,” he said with a smirk, “I’d much rather get to know you now – Hey! I’m still recovering I’ll have you know!” That last bit was in response to Percival smacking him on the back of the head.

After a quick discussion with Gaius it was decided that should anyone ask, Merlin would simply say that he had been cursed to look like a child, and the curse had finally worn off. Merlin only agreed to go with it after Arthur reminded him that his other options were to leave Camelot entirely.

“I’m not sure if there is any home left for me to go back to.” He said forlornly. Arthur couldn’t quite tell if he was being facetious or not.

Which left Arthur with the other problem still unsolved. Uther’s return to court would likely mean the mass execution of over fifty sorcerers, fifty men and women who were just unwilling pawns forced from their proper homes outside of Camelot’s borders. The law states that Sorcery is illegal in Camelot. But these sorcerers were not of Camelot and were forced to enter the kingdom and use magic here against their will. Besides, none of the captured sorcerers had performed any malicious magic since being freed from Cenred’s control. Arthur had demanded that they be treated fairly, and in return they were patient until some sort of release agreement could be made. Arthur just had to establish the terms of the release with the council. It shouldn’t be too hard.

-o0o-

The council seemed to have different ideas. Uther’s most loyal advisors were arguing with some of the younger advisors and Arthur’s knights. Morgana had excused herself from this mess almost an hour ago, taking Guinevere with her after seizing Arthur by the shoulder and whispering, ‘_I know you will do the right thing, but I cannot stand their blabbering anymore._’ The conviction which she said it with convinced Arthur it was undoubtedly true. He just wished he knew what the right thing was.

Finally having enough, Arthur pushed himself up, effectively silencing the room. “I already know what my father would have us do, and I refuse to see any more innocent people suffer.” There was a shuffle of council members, most avoiding looking directly at the Prince Regent. “This council is dismissed for the day.” He declared, and then continued to dismiss members as they came up to him with questions as the majority shuffled out.

Finally, Arthur was left alone in the council room, alone with just his thoughts, and oh how they were swirling. There was too much to think about. _The captured sorcerers and the rogue Generals. Uther’s impending return to court. The knights and advisors clashing over new and old. Morgana and her predictions. Guinevere. And now Merlin. Merlin the boy. Merlin the man. Merlin the unicorn, and the bloody dragon and whatever else he could be, had been, was forced to be by Cenred. Cenred forcing the magic users to fight. _The thoughts kept chasing themselves around in circles and Arthur was getting too tired to escape them. He needed clarity. He needed peace. He needed an interruption.

It was the last one he got moments later when a servant hesitantly opened the council chamber door.

“Sire, there is a man here who requested a meeting with you. We tried to turn him away, but he was insistent that it was urgent.” The servant looked nervous, and Arthur schooled his expression.

“Let him in,” he said gently, settling back down into his seat.

The servant nodded and a moment later he was replaced by an older man, greying hair framing his face as he serenely walked in.

The man stopped in front of Arthur and regarded him for a moment before speaking. “My name is Iseldir. I am of the Druids. I have come to bargain for the freedom of my people now that they are no longer under the Mad King’s control.”

Arthur leaned forward in his seat. “You should be more cautious about announcing things like that,” He said evenly, “As I keep trying to remind someone, magic is still illegal in Camelot, and these walls have ears. Ears that are generally attached to people who would remind you of that in a less than friendly way.”

Iseldir inclined his head slightly. “True, magic is Illegal here. But as you have not executed the sorcerers currently being held here, I had some hope that you would be more inclined to my plight than your father would be.”

Arthur thought quickly. There may be a solution for the current mess he was in if he could just play his cards right. “I cannot in good faith remove the ban on your people in this kingdom while my father will soon sit on the throne again.” He started, “However, I’d rather not have an army of scared and angry sorcerers locked up in the bowels of the citadel when my father retakes the throne. If we are to come to some sort of agreement, I need for your people to take all of the sorcerers currently being held here, druid or not, and make sure they removed from our borders.”

Iseldir raised a brow. “That is more than generous for the son of the man who started the purge.”

“Perhaps it is,” Arthur agreed, “But perhaps I am unwilling to have any more innocent blood on my hands.”

Iseldir considered the Prince. Arthur felt as though he was being judged, both for his current statement’s sincerity and for his past actions. A moment later it seemed as though Iseldir reached a conclusion.

The older man spoke softly. “Has the news reached you yet of monsters rampaging in the Forest of Balor? Magical creatures of the likes seen among Cenred’s forces. Rumor has it that there is a sorcerer among them who can command them.”

Arthur’s breath caught. _Wasn’t one of Cenred’s Generals a man who could command the monsters?_ If he truly was out there, then here was a chance to ensure that the knowledge of how to control others was prevented from spreading. “That particular bit of information is new to me, and very valuable. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Arthur stood up and moved towards the older man. “Here is what we can do. Tonight, my men will discretely escort the sorcerers out beyond the citadel walls. No need to draw more attention than necessary, I don’t want the townsfolk to panic if it looks like a small army is moving through.” And in his mind he added, _less chance for my father to find out._ “Tomorrow morning, we will officially release the sorcerers into your custody, and my men will escort you to the kingdom’s borders. Will that work for you?”

Iseldir smiled. “I believe that would work out well for us all.”

-o0o-

Relaying his plan to Leon was easy. The Knight immediately went to work to arrange it so that fifty or so sorcerers could be smuggled out through a side gate in the dead of night. Convincing his father that leaving on a patrol to deal with rumors of monsters in the Forest of Balor was easy. The King had simply nodded and insisted that the kingdom would not fall apart should Arthur wish to take a break from his duties as Regent. No, the hard part was dealing with a nosey shape-changer who seemed to appear out of nowhere the moment clandestine activity picked up in the castle.

“What are you planning?” The man shaped being asked a cornered Arthur in the hallway.

“It doesn’t matter _Mer_lin since you will be staying here and helping Gaius like we agreed you would. Unless you’d rather go off and be with the druids?” Merlin had slunk off with a funny expression on his face. That was last night. This morning Arthur was overseeing last minute preparations in the courtyard as the knights prepared to ride out.

From his position at the base of the stairs he couldn’t see Morgana sneak up on him, but she quickly made her presence known when she and Gwen joined him.

“I told you that you would do the right thing,” Morgana said smugly.

“Yes, you did. And somehow found out what exactly we were doing despite the fact that this was supposed to be a somewhat secret affair. Tell me, which knight did you threaten to sink your claws into to get them to tell you? Was it Leon?” Gwen coughed lightly. “Lancelot then.”

“Arthur dear, you insult me! I didn’t need to threaten anyone to tell me!” Morgana smiled. “there are so many other ways to get your men to talk.”

He turned to Morgana. “And yet I doubt you needed to use any of them to find out what you wanted.” Morgana’s smile fled. “We will talk more when I get back. Just know that I trust you to not do anything rash.” he said with a sharp look towards her, before softening his gaze as he turns to the maidservant. “Guinevere, I need to ask a favor of you.”

Arthur was glad that when Gwen turned her brown eyes to his it no longer felt like a stab wound to the gut. Maybe a sharp elbow, but no longer a tearing pain. “What is it you need, Arthur?”

“Keep an eye on Merlin for me. I worry he might try to do something while we are gone, and he could use a few more people watching out for him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Gwen said with a slight smile that only caused a small crack to form in his heart rather than shattering it. The crack barely even widened when Arthur watched the maidservant wander over to a certain knight who was gearing up. Moments later he was distracted by a slight cough and the appearance of a stable boy.

“Your horse, sire,” said a stable boy, one hand on Arthur’s charger, Hengroen, the other offering the lead to the prince.

Arthur quickly nodded his thanks before exchanging the lead for saddle bags and rounding Hengroen to quickly mount. He took in the sight of the knights mounting up around him. It was a mixture of Uther’s more experienced men and Arthur’s more loyal ones. Arthur hoped the older knights would stay in line but was prepared to deal with them should they choose to question his judgement.

“Let’s head out!” Arthur called out and the thundering of hooves filled the courtyard. The knights rode through the lower town and out the main gate towards the Darkling Woods. As they approached the designated clearing in the woods Arthur could just make out the shapes of movement, a camp being quickly disassembled, a supply wagon being packed.

Arthur reigned in Hengroen, the horse flicking its ears in displeasure at being forced to stop its steady gait. Dismounting at the edge of the clearing he spoke loud enough for his voice to carry to the entire party. “Here is where we split ways. Remember your mission.” With a quieter voice Arthur spoke to his knights. “Gwaine, Percival, Elyan. I trust you lot to make sure they make it safely to the border.” He looked at the trio of knights, getting two solemn nods and a nonchalant grin.

“Don’t worry Princess. Our journey will be plenty boring compared to yours. I might have to spice thing up at night lest they get too dull.”

Arthur turned to consider the laid-back knight. “Percival, Elyan. I trust you two to keep an eye on Gwaine.”

Gwaine’s indignant ‘Oy!’ was chorused by a pair of ‘Yes Sire!‘s’ with accompanying grins, momentarily dispelling the tension between the group.

Walking up to him Arthur saw Iseldir and a woman he recognized to be the druid Melle. She briefly went into a curtsy before Isledir spoke up “Thank you Prince Arthur. Your kindness will be remembered by the druids.”

“Don’t thank me until you return home safely,” Arthur said not unkindly.

Melle seemed to glance at Iseldir briefly before saying “Should we hear any news regarding things that could concern Camelot’s safety we will find a way to send you a message. The druids have means to do so.”

“Thank you. Safe journeys.” Arthur said to the druids.

Arthur quickly gathered up the remaining knights who would be accompanying him to the Forest of Balor. Joining him would be Sirs Leon, Lancelot, Caradoc, Bohrs, and Owain. While he would have preferred to keep his more loyal knights with himself, he did not trust Uther’s men to guarantee the captured sorcerers safe return to the druids. Besides, the older knights experience would help out greatly with any attacking monsters.

Mounting up again, the knights rode off.

-o0o-

Arthur and his men spent the better part of the day riding towards the Forest of Balor breaking once for lunch and reaching the edge just as the sun started to fall.

“Sire, I think it would be best to make camp here rather than deal with what might be in the forest at night,” Leon said, coming alongside Arthur.

“I think you might be right. The horses are starting to become antsy,” Arthur said as Hengroen shook his head and Leon’s mount shuffled unhappily. All the horses had started becoming progressively twitchier as they approached the trees. Arthur barked out the order to make camp, and the knights started to settle in a small copse with a creek running through it.

They methodically broke up, Caradoc and Bohrs to hunt for dinner, Owain to gather firewood, and Lancelot and Leon to set up bedrolls. Arthur lead the horses over to the creek to tie them up.

Hengroen nuzzled Arthur’s chest and he smiled fondly at the charger. “I don’t have any treats for you if that’s what you’re looking for,” He said, patting the horse’s nose.

“Yes, well I can smell that you’re lying. There’s an apple in your coat,” said Hengroen, startling Arthur so badly he stumbled and fell backwards, catching himself painfully on a tree.

“What the –” Arthur managed before Hengroen shook his main out and rapidly shrank into a much more familiar human shape. “Merlin?! What on earth – how did you get here?” Arthur whisper-shrieked at the man.

“What type of question is that? You literally rode me all the way out here!” Merlin whisper-yelled back, and oh there was a thought Arthur did _not_ want in his head, but it was hard to deny, what with Hengroen’s saddle bags currently draped over Merlin’s shoulders. Completely gobsmacked, Arthur could only manage one thought in his head.

“Merlin,” he started.

“Yes Arthur?” Merlin said, blinking two wide eyed completely guilty blue eyes.

“Where is he?” Arthur said with a barely controlled voice.

“He who?” Merlin said, still feigning innocence.

“Hengroen! My Horse you dolt! The one you pretended to be!” Arthur raged as quietly as he could, not wanting to alert the knights just yet about their … stowaway?

“Oh him! He’s fine. He’s back in the stables at Camelot, no harm done to him!” Merlin said grinning widely.

“And how do you know that?” Arthur seethed.

“Well I may have intercepted the stable boy bringing him out and told him you decided you didn’t need him. Then I just turned into that stable boy and your horse and brought myself back out to you.” Merlin said blasély, as though he wasn’t breaking both the laws of Camelot and nature.

It took a moment for what Merlin had said to register, only bringing more questions than answers. “You were the stable boy _and_ the horse? How does that even work?”

“Well there’s really no limit to how big I can get; just how difficult it is to maintain myself. Having too many extra legs tends to throw me off a bit. I can change into many shapes as long as I am in contact will all the extra bits.” Merlin then held out his hand, palm up, and from it sprung a sword. He offered it to the Prince. Arthur reached out, incredulous to touch the blade, finding it no different from his own, cool steal with a sharp edge. Arthur picked it up only to have Merlin’s hand come with it, maintaining a steady contact despite the fact that his hand was open on the blade. Merlin gently pulled it back before flipping his hand over and letting the sword fall – except it didn’t. Arthur had never seen such a bizarre sight as a sword that stuck to its wielder, Merlin shaking his arm vigorously for emphasis.

Arthur shook his head, recalibrating to the new information before snatching his saddle bags from Merlin’s shoulders. He reached in and rooted around for a moment before pulling out a Pendragon-Red cloth. He tossed it to the man-shaped being and said, “Put that on. And keep it on.”

Merlin caught it clumsily, nearly dropping it on the ground. “What? Why?”

Arthur snatched the cloth back, and quickly folded it into a triangle. Pushing Merlin down into a kneeling position he tied the bright red cloth around his neck as a neckerchief. “When I tell you to keep this on, I mean it. I want to know it is you, no matter what form you decide to take. Child, horse, dragon, I don’t care. I want my men to be able to recognize you and know not to attack you should you startle them!”

Merlin pushed himself into a standing position and turned around to face Arthur eye to eye. There was some sort of emotion dwelling there, a glitter in twilight blue eyes that Arthur couldn’t quite place as Merlin gently rubbed the red fabric between his fingers. Arthur thought that the bright red contrasted nicely between Merlin’s pale neck and the darker brown of his jacket. Then Arthur reminded himself it did not mater how it contrasted so long as he was able to recognize Merlin at a glance. Arthur tried to plaster a frown on his face.

He failed when Merlin tilted his head slightly, grinned, and said “Alright then.” Before turning back towards camp. Arthur caught him before he could take two steps away.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“To the nice warm campfire?” Merlin looked at him hopefully.

“Absolutely not. How am I going to explain that my horse turned out to be an annoying shape-changer?” Arthur said firmly.

“Oh, I didn’t think this through.” Said Merlin, suddenly crestfallen.

“No. no you didn’t.” Said Arthur, mildly amused for the first time this evening.

“Well I could always just…” he trailed off, before sprouting feathers all along his exposed skin, clothing morphing too, and shrinking into a small bird, _a merlin_, Arthur thought in amusement, as the bird, completely swathed in a red neckerchief flew up and perched in a tree above the campsite. As Arthur returned, he would swear that he saw the cheeky bird _wink_ at him.


	7. The Griffin, the Sorcerer, and the Prophecy

Arthur was loath to saddle back up the next morning. Not only did it seem _wrong_ on an intrinsic level to ride something that spent most of his time looking human, but also since Merlin was not a trained warhorse. If they were to come across the beasts they were searching for, Arthur was positive Merlin would not react to commands the way Hengroen would. It would put both of them in danger. Which was why Arthur felt the need to bring someone in on the situation other than the mischievous horse currently snuffling his pockets and trying to steal the apple he had in there.

Giving up, Arthur pulled out the apple and gave it to Merlin, who tossed his head and twitched his ears and combined with the glimmer in his eyes Arthur took to be as close to a thanks as he was going to get.

Turning back towards camp Arthur called out softly to his more trusted knights. “Leon, Lancelot. There is something we must discuss.”

“What’s the matter sire?” Leon said, leading the other knight over to where Arthur stood at the edge of the camp.

Looking around quickly to ensure the other knights were busy with tasks and out of earshot Arthur quietly said, “Do you remember that young boy we recovered from the battlefield?”

“Wasn’t he cursed?” Leon said with a furrowed brow.

“Merlin?” Lancelot interjected, “Yes, I think so.” He blushed slightly. “Gwen was telling me about him, they’ve spent some time together helping Gaius out around the infirmary.”

Arthur ignored the pang that came with that comment, not willing to investigate it too closely. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I may have not been truthful about Merlin being cursed.” The knights glanced at each other then back at Arthur. “That is to say, he isn’t cursed at all. He is some kind of shape-changer who can take on many forms.”

Leon looked a little alarmed. “Sire that kind of magic is dangerous,” but Arthur cut him off before he could continue.

“As far as I can tell he has no ulterior motives, nothing nefarious planned.” Arthur waved his hand as though to clear the air, “Look the reason I am telling you this is because he is hear right now.”

“Where?” Said Lancelot, glancing around nervously.

Arthur nodded towards the horses. “He’s disguised himself as Hengroen.”

“What?” chimed two incredulous voices.

“Are you saying that your horse is actually a child?” Leon asked uncertainly.

“A shape-changing man but yes.”

“What do you want us to do about this?” Lancelot looked at the horse in question, which seemed to wicker a greeting.

Arthur took a deep breath. “I want to keep him out of danger and any possible trouble we will run into in the woods. I need you to help me convince the others to leave our horses here for the day.”

“That shouldn’t be to difficult,” Leon began, “I can suggest we leave them here; even the most trained warhorses will still panic when confronted with magical beasts.”

“Excellent. The others should accept that.” Arthur said, “Now let’s get back to work.”

“Sire, you _rode_ that horse all the way here yesterday!”

“I am aware of that, thank you Lancelot.”

-o0o-

As it turned out the knights didn’t need to track down any of the beasts in the woods; as soon as the edge of the woods was out of sight a monster was upon them.

The griffin was just as ferocious as it had been on the battle field, and even though the knights were no longer being harassed by foot soldiers, they had to compensate for the uneven terrain composed of tree roots and undergrowth.

Sir Leon called out a warning “Our weapons don’t pierce its hide! Try to aim for its eyes or other weak points!”

Dancing out of the way of a kick, Arthur cringed as the griffin let out an earsplitting shriek and reared back to avoid a strike from Lancelot. A moment later and he too was dodging out of the griffin’s range, only to be replaced by Leon and Caradoc approaching from either side. The griffin targeted Leon, lunging with its sharp beak as Leon blocked the blow with his sword, only for the beast to snatch the weapon and fling it away.

Before the griffin could land a finishing blow on the disarmed knight, it jerked its head back and yowled, a bolt falling to the ground where a retreating Leon had just been. Glancing around, Arthur saw Owain reloading his crossbow. The griffin leveled its attention back towards the youngest knight, utter hatred in its aquiline eyes. Interrupting the creature before it could move in on the younger knight, Sir Bohrs moved in and landed a heavy blow on the creatures’ wings. The distinct sound of bones breaking could be heard, along with a much sharper snap of Bohrs’ sword shattering. The knight shouted out in dismay, clutching the remains of his hilt for a moment before the griffin let out another shriek and launched both Bohrs and Caradoc, who had been futilely slashing at the beast, through the air with a sweep of its non-injured wing.

The griffin turned to Arthur. The Prince leveled his sword at the griffin as the creature geared up to charge him. Its talons tore up clods of earth as it bared down on him, and a strangled “Sire!” shout came from one of the still standing knights behind him.

A blur of feathers and red brushed past Arthur and straight into the griffin’s face, causing it to reel back. The creature screeched as talons made contact and a moment later the small falcon that had been attacking wheeled away leaving three crimson scratches just under the griffin’s eye.

“Merlin -?” Arthur gasped out as the bird circled around the enraged griffin, letting out a call that almost sounded like laughter before swooping down towards the ground. The bird shifted in midflight, feathers turning to fur as it hit the ground running, a large grey wolf with a red cloth around its neck. The griffin let out a roar at the fast approaching wolf, but Merlin collided with it before it could do anything else, and the wolf was on its back, jaws clamping around its neck and drawing blood.

The griffin frantically shook until the wolf-shaped being was thrown off, and Arthur inhaled sharply at the yelp it let out when it collided bodily with the ground. But Merlin didn’t stay down, and moments later he was up again, standing between the shocked knights and the angry monster, letting out a threatening growl.

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed out, “Get out of here.”

The wolf spared him a sharp glance, amber-gold eyes seemingly piercing his soul, before turning back to the raging griffin.

“STOP!” commanded a voice. The single syllable seemed to ripple around the forest, through the griffin’s bristled feathers and around the wolf’s perked ears. The standing knights whirled around, looking for the source. On the ground Sir Caradoc and Sir Borhs’ chests rose and fell evenly.

Arthur watched in amazement as the griffin shifted into a much more subdued position, its eyes tracking movement behind him. Turning, Arthur watched in amazement as an older man in a white robe walked towards the griffin. A furry heat pressed itself to Arthur’s thigh and without a thought Arthur reached down to comfort the semi-spooked wolf, hand carding through his fur.

The old man reached pecking distance of the griffin and Lancelot let out a “Carful! That thing is dangerous!”

The old man chuckled, “Not to me she isn’t,” before reaching up to the wounded griffin’s eye. There was a whisper in the wind accompanied by a gentle glow and the parallel marks left by a tiny falcon closed. The man then moved around to the limp wing and tutted at the state it was in.

Beside him, Merlin lurched forward, morphing half way through the motion into a familiar man. Owain let out a shocked noise but Arthur and the other knights ignored him. In a wavering voice, Merlin said, “It’s you.”

The old man looked up from where he was stroking the injured griffin’s wing. “Emrys. You are looking much better now that you are free from the Mad King’s control.”

Arthur watched the sharp jerk of Merlin’s head, the way his hand clenched behind his back. “My name is Merlin,” He said evenly.

The man’s face contorted into that of a much angrier person. “That monster would strip a child of both his freedom and his name. The world should rejoice for his death.” He shook his head as though clearing the memory of Cenred from his mind. “Well met, Merlin.”

Arthur reached out and gently pulled Merlin back until he was mostly behind him. “Who are you?” Arthur called out, feeling his still standing knights moving up behind him.

The man paused in his ministrations. “Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner sire. I am Anhora, Keeper of Magic Creatures, both large and small, once slave to the Mad King Cenred.” He turned and gave the slightest nod that could almost be mistaken for a bow.

Arthur’s grip on Merlin’s elbow tightened. “You were one of Cenred’s Generals, are you not?”

Anhora arched a brow and nodded slightly. “A position I would have never willingly taken,” he said turning back to the griffin as it shook out its wing, fully healed.

“Are you saying he used you and your power over magical creatures like this one?” Arthur said gesturing none to subtly with the hilt of his sword.

The old man snorted. “A sorcerer of my disposition should only use their powers for good. My job, before my servitude, was to prevent creatures of magic and the common folk of Albion from interacting in negative ways.”

Arthur pressed on. “But did you command them in the same way that Cenred commanded you? Did you use sorcery to control others?”

“I do not so much as control them as ask them as equals. All creatures desire respect in some form or another.” The griffin tossed its head and let out a soft chirruping noise as Anhora gently stroked the feathers around its neck.

Arthur shook his head. He was starting to lose patience with the bizarre old sorcerer. “Do you or do you not possess the knowledge to bind another sorcerer to do you bidding?”

Anhora whirled around and thundered “Do not patronize me so, Prince. I would no more choose to bind a newt as a fellow human.” Then, more softly, he said “I will see to the safe return of these creatures to their home territories and return to my former job. I have no more interests in the squabbles between mortal men.” Merlin’s hand met Arthurs’ on his elbow, gently brushing it until Arthur released his firm grip with a silent apology.

“Forgive me for pressing,” Arthur began, gaze shifting to the back of Merlin’s head, “I am simply trying to prevent the knowledge of how to bind sorcerers from escaping beyond Cenred’s death. I do not want it to affect anyone else. I will not stand for it in my kingdom or any other.”

Anhora considered the Prince carefully, scrutinizing him up and down before speaking. “Arthur Pendragon. There is a prophecy about a great King, Once and Future, who will bring peace and unite the lands of Albion. The King, it is said, will wield a great power and use it for the good of all. Cenred thought that through the army he created he would be fulfilling the prophecy. He was wrong. Choose your future actions wisely, young King, for your choices may reach farther than you’d ever expect.”

“I am not King yet,” Arthur said, adding silently, _Not for a long time if my father can keep evading death._

“No, not yet,” said Anhora before the old man quickly pulled himself astride the griffin and the beast launched itself into the air.

“For an old man he sure does move fast,” Merlin grumbled, but Arthur’s eyes had already moved on to the recovering knights. Sir Borhs shook off Sir Owain’s help to right himself, while Sir Caradoc watched the retreating specks with a sour look on his face.

“We head back for camp,” Arthur called out, “And return to Camelot as soon as possible.”

“But Sire,” Sir Caradoc started.

“The threat in the Forest of Balor has been handled. We need to return back to the citadel and plan our next move.” He lowered his voice so only Merlin could hear him. “It was very dangerous for you to join our fight.”

“You could always say, oh I don’t know, _thank you for saving our lives Merlin, We’re ever so grateful!_” Merlin said in a pitchy falsetto.

“Don’t be an Idiot _Mer_lin, we would have been just fine in the end.”

“Yeah sure. I only prevented any serious maiming of your royal arse is all.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that.” Then louder, “I sure hope my horse is still where I left him!”

Merlin snorted and said something that sounded suspiciously like _prat!_ under his breath before jogging off ahead in the direction of camp. Arthur couldn’t help the small smile that rose on his face, and if Leon mentioned seeing it later, he would firmly deny it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually tried to do some research in order to bring some medieval weaponry into the fight but immediately became disheartening when I realized how inaccurate the show already was. On the plus side, I do highly recommend googling a merlin falcon's call, it's super adorable. I should also warn you that the next few chapters are the darkest ones and the reason why the story carries the rating it does.


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